Home is where the heart is

Nellie Harley
Aug 23, 2017 · 4 min read

Facebook is a necessary evil. We can all agree that the shallow trend of making your life appear better than it seems, “vauge-booking”, or the over abundance of political soap boxes, are just a few examples of the evil. The necessary, though, is harder to find. Sharing pictures of family, keeping in contact and strengthening networks, rebuilding old friendships, and using it as an appropriate place to share appropriate news, are all reasons it has brought some good to us.

But the memories. Facebook memories are welcome most of the time, it’s a baby picture of one of my little ones, a fun event with friends. Otherwise I take the time to delete that post of which I don’t want to be reminded of again. But today, Facebook reminded me of the six month mark after leaving my now ex-husband.

“Today has been 6 months since I made the biggest change of my entire life. For the last six months I’ve been terrified, lost, hopeless, regretful and doubtful. I’ve had to re-learn how to live without fear, more fear than I knew I had, and learning this was like uncovering a disability I never knew was making me sick. I’ve had to deal with what my choices made me, face my past and actually talk about it for the first time in over a decade. I had to realize what normal actually is. For the last six months I had to be the strongest mother I could be and deal with emotions, questions and tears from the two people I love the most in life. I had to be the living proof that not only are we going to be ok, we will be better.

Thank you to all of you who I’ve turned to and asked for help without knowing how, and yet you’ve been there for me. Thank you to my daughters who have unknowingly proven to me that I made the right choice.

This has been the best and happiest 6 months of my entire life.”

Wow, cheesy and empowering. It was outrageously difficult to release this type of emotion into the social media abyss. This 6 month mark is something I clearly remember; I was the bird exiting the cage; a few small hops, weak wings from lack of flying. Squinting into the sun. Ready.

At the time of that post, I was facing my fears, but I was fighting them with glove-less hands, because no matter how much I planned and prepared for that very moment for the previous 2 years: you’re not swimming until you’re actually submerged.

We lived through hell. Everyone experiences some degree of hell, I assume. Sometimes several versions of it. Facebook reminded me of this hell, but I did not delete this post. I want to remember, because I am eternally grateful for this struggle.

I’m thankful because of the evenings I spent in tears on the couch. The pacing, walking off the self doubt. The pep talks I practiced giving myself, just to be able to get up the courage to get the three of us out of the house for some fun. There were the sleepless nights; because I know I locked the doors, but just to be safe… And the windows. And you know what, I might as well double check to make sure the kids are safe in their beds while I’m up. Again.

Because when your safety is taken away, there is no place to dream.

It’s true what they say; force yourself to get out, you will feel better. So we did. Force a smile and eventually you will smile. And it was working. I owe it all to the two innocent and wondering eyes looking up at me, wanting to see the world. Wanting to see me smiling, for reassurance and comfort on this battle field. I knew I had to do it for them. So adventures we had, adventure after adventure. Smile after smile. It was then I realized we were building our home.

It is a figurative home, the brick and mortar are these adventures and smiles. It is a home where we started to feel safe and happy. And the more we add onto this home, the happier we are. The sleepless nights started to dwindle, fears started to fade. Making it through the night was a must, because in the morning, we were off on another excursion to add onto that house again.

We have lived in this house for 3 and a half years now. We are still adding on, hanging art, wiping up dust and changing light bulbs. So when I say I am thankful for the hell we went through, it’s because now, when there is a fire in our sweet home, we have enough other rooms to take shelter while we repair the damage. We aren’t homeless because of a disaster. We aren’t starting out with a barren lot. We have our foundation. A living room, playroom, welcoming yard.

And bedrooms where we actually sleep to dream.

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Nellie Harley

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Here is an ongoing set of stories as to why I gave up the pursuit of happiness, to be happy.

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